


In a Thousand Alternate Universes

by TicTok



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Soul Bond, family by choice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27054724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TicTok/pseuds/TicTok
Summary: Claude would always choose Danny.
Relationships: Danny Briere/Claude Giroux, past danny/sylvie
Comments: 3
Kudos: 111





	In a Thousand Alternate Universes

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in March of 2017 and promptly forgot it existed. I just logged into my old Google drive and found it oops lmao ...enjoy?
> 
> PS apparently i no longer possess the patience to go through and convert the spacing properly from google docs to html and im very sorry

Danny didn't like to think about how easily it could happen. He knew that his time with Sylvie was precious. No matter how many times she told him that it didn’t matter, no matter how many times she said it wouldn’t change anything, he knew. And he was right. He came home from a road trip, and as usual, his kids swarmed him, hugging him and scrambling for his attention. The dogs barked and danced around his legs. Even the cats made an appearance to greet him. What wasn’t usual, was that Sylvie didn’t come meet him at the door.

Danny had kissed the boys heads and petted the animals, then sent the boys to finish their homework. He wondered idly if Sylvie was not feeling well and laying in bed. Maybe she was asleep. It seemed unlikely, since the boys hadn’t immediately started yelling about their mom being ill.

When he got to their bedroom he found Sylvie sitting on the floor by the bed, crying into a handful of tissues. When she looked up and their eyes met, he wishes he could say he knew right away. But he didn’t know. His naivety prevented him from guessing. 

Panic gripped him, was she sick? Was someone else sick? Had someone died?

She clung to him and sobbed into his shoulder.

“He’s really great.” She murmured into his skin. ‘Oh.’ Danny thought and nodded shakily. Her soulmate. Danny had always known that he would be wonderful. Sylvie’s soulmate couldn’t possibly be anything less than perfect. So much more than Danny was.

He had gently taken ahold of her wrist and pushed her sleeve back. Sure enough, the once pale pink lettering had darkened into a healthy red color, thrumming with life. He ran his fingers over the letters while she hid her face in his neck.

_Joshua Morrison_

The divorce was messy. Sylvie would change her mind a few times a day, torn between staying with the man she loved and moving on to be with her soulmate. He had children too. Two girls. Sylvie always wanted a daughter. Now she had two. The boys loved them like their own siblings from the day they met them. They raved about their new sisters to Danny as often as they could, oblivious to the pain it caused him to hear about their mom’s great new life with Joshua and his daughters.

Danny threw himself completely into his hockey and tried not to think about anything else. 

  
  


He wore his wrist cover all the time, Danny noticed. Most guys his age were pretty nonchalant about their wrist names. 

However, Claude was secretive about it and evaded the questions of the guys. Danny left him alone about it. He kept his own wrist covered too.

Claude moved in after he whined at Danny for a few weeks. He went on and on about how annoying Hartzy is and how he could never get any rest because Hartzy never shuts up. Also, apparently Hartzy’s whole house smelled like feet. 

Danny had laughed his ass off first, and then agreed to let Claude move into one of his spare rooms.

Claude moved in like he had lived with Danny and his three kids for his entire life. The kids adjusted to him as if he was the missing piece in their home. Danny and Claude moved around each other at home with total ease.

There’s a pretty strict routine in the Briere household. Danny was surprised how quickly Claude adapted and fit right in.

They fight. They make up. They buy groceries together. They take turns driving the kids to school. They bicker over who’s turn it is to wash the dishes. They go back and forth on who has to walk the dogs. The kids play them against each other to get their own way. It’s not until he notices Claude leaning into him on the couch and letting his eyes linger on Danny a little too long that it dawns on him. Claude’s done it all along, Danny realises. 

They are by all standards in a relationship. Claude is looking at them as a couple and expects things from Danny. The realization sends him back peddling and cutting Claude out of most of their regular combined activities.

He refuses to bring Claude into that part of his life. He can’t do that to him. He wonders what would even make Claude think like that, surely his wrist doesn’t say Daniel. Even if it did, it wouldn’t have brightened and come to life. 

Danny doesn’t have a soulmate. There is nothing but pale, clear skin on either of his wrists.

Eventually, after a year of living in each other’s pockets, Danny tells Claude it’s time for him to move out. He tries not to act like he sees the hurt look in Claude’s eyes.

Claude gets his own place and plays amazing hockey. Danny tries not to be clingy for the rare attention Claude pays him after he moves out.

Then, the lock out. Claude doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself. He shows up on Danny’s doorstep with a bag and shy, gap-toothed smile. 

“Come to Germany with me?” Danny can’t make himself say no.

They fall into old patterns easily. They are good friends, completely compatible. Danny knows he would easily transition to more than friends with Claude if he gave himself half a chance. Claude is warm, affectionate, he’s sarcastic and goofy. He likes crappy country music and has an embarrassing love for karaoke. 

He likes Danny. Claude goes out of his way to please him and takes special efforts to spend time with him. It’s flattering and only serves to deepen Danny’s affection for him. He craves Claude’s closeness and attention. 

When Claude tries, Danny lets him press him against the doorframe of the foyer and kiss him senseless in the middle of their rental house in Berlin. As all kisses do, it has to end.

Danny’s lips are tingling and his heart pounding. Claude smiles at Danny and it makes his heart ache when he pushes Claude away and heads to bed. He looks back from the top of the stairs and sees Claude standing there with his arms crossed and his head hanging. He clenches his jaw and turns away.

He gets a chip fracture in his wrist while they are in Berlin. Then the lockout ends and they have to return to Philly. The recovery time gives Danny a few weeks to lick his wounds in peace before he has to face Claude on a daily basis again. 

As much as Danny wants to see him, (and he really, really wants to see him) he knows that if he does he will confess all his feelings and beg for Claude’s forgiveness. He can’t stand the thought of Claude with anyone else.

Danny’s contract gets bought out in March. Nashville offers him several years and a hefty paycheck, but Montreal is closer. He goes there with only a little hesitation. He needs to stay as close as he can to his boys.

Claude comes over the day the news breaks. He comes bearing a case of beer and bags of take out. He doesn’t knock on the door. He just comes in and makes his way to the kitchen. Danny looks up when he hears someone come in through his front door, momentarily afraid one of his kids came over unannounced. 

Danny is sprawled out on the sofa, a half empty bottle of a sweet merlot clutched against his chest. He flinches when Claude ‘tsks’ at him, but doesn't argue when Claude takes the bottle from him. Danny’s face is flushed. He feels warm all over, and a deep sense of contentedness that comes with being wine drunk beyond caring about anything.

“Danny, it’s two in the afternoon.” 

In response, Danny hums, like he’s surprised. 

“On a Thursday.” 

Danny purses his lips and half shrugs. 

“And you’re wasted.” 

Danny smirks. He feels like he should protest when Claude goes to the kitchen and pours the remainder down the sink. That stuff’s expensive.

The bags of take out sandwiches materialize in Danny’s lap, and he giggles, tipping his head back to look at Claude. He’s standing behind the couch, looking down at Danny with an unreadable expression. It might be disappointment, Danny thinks. He doesn't care. Claude brushes his fingers over Danny’s forehead and says, “Call me tomorrow.”

Vaguely, Danny hears the sounds of Claude picking up the case of beer in the kitchen and the front door closing. He’s leaning towards passing out, even though he feels like he should stop Claude from leaving. He means to get up and say, ‘Wait, I need you to stay.’

He doesn't get up. He also doesn't call in the morning.

He’s been in Montreal a few weeks when his doorbell rings. He has to stifle the gasp when Claude grins at him and pushes into the apartment. 

“I want to date.” Claude bursts out the moment the door closes. Briefly, he looks horrified at himself, but recovers quickly. He grins sheepishly and runs a hand through his hair.

"What?" Danny nearly whispers the word, avoiding Claude's eyes to stare at the wall. Claude kicks the door shut and leans against it. He exudes calm inconfidence, unsure but at ease with the situation.

The dogs are wiggling around excitedly at their feet. Claude stoops to scoop up the fat old boston. She licks his chin and settles in his arms, happily staring up at him.

Danny feels like he’s drifting. His mind swims and he can’t seem to meet Claude’s eyes. Claude, for his part, is relaxing by the moment, staring at Danny intently.

“Danny, did you hear me?” Claude’s voice shakes across Danny’s name before leveling out. He nods, flicking his eyes up to meet Claude’s. 

Claude steps closer, clutching the dog to his chest like she is the only thing keeping him together. She looks half pleased and half concerned. Danny reaches forward and cups her face, stroking her ears before plucking her out of Claude’s arms to set her on the floor. 

Time feels like it’s standing still. Moving so slow that he feels safe to look up and settle his gaze on Claude’s face. 

“After all this, why now? When I’m playing 500 miles away from where you are?” Danny knows he sounds petulant. 

“Well to be fair, I have tried before. You pushed me away. Unless you don't remember.”

Danny cringes. He does remember. Claude isn’t a master of subtlety but he can be patient and quite persistent. There are vivid memories in the back of Danny’s mind that if examined, would prove just how hard Claude had tried, on more than one occasion.

“So, can I stay for a little?” Claude moves past Danny into the depth of the apartment without waiting for an answer. He knows Danny would never turn him down, would never kick him out as long as he acts like he is entitled to the space. Danny circles his hand around his blank wrist and closes his eyes.

“Do you want to get dinner?” Danny says softly from his position on the couch next to Claude. “I know a little place where no one will think twice.” 

Claude tears his eyes away from the TV, to look over at him. Danny has his back against the high armrest of the couch, his knees pulled up and his arms folded across his stomach. His feet are pinned under Claude’s thigh and Claude is slouching into Danny’s legs. 

It was their standard position when they lived together in Haddonfield. The boys took up the majority of the L-shaped couch, leaving Danny to curl up in the corner and Claude to squeeze in next to Danny. The sensible thing would have been to buy a bigger couch. However, Danny insisted that he wasn’t wasting money on something new just so the boys and dogs could destroy it. 

The Briere’s were an excessively close-knit group anyway, and none of them minded the tight quarters.

Claude sighed, settling heavier against Danny’s legs. He really didn’t seem to want to move, but nodded anyway. 

An hour later found them seated at a little restaurant that was walking distance from Danny’s apartment. Danny kept feeling as though he should be uncomfortable, but then he had rarely felt that way around Claude. 

They didn’t talk about much in the time before ordering and waiting on their food. Aside from little comments about what sounded good, and then while they waited, Danny filled Claude in on the boys and school.

No, Caelan wasn’t staying out of trouble. Yes, Carson was still seeing that girl from his biology class. Cameron had pinkeye for about the 10th time in his short life. Claude listened contentedly with his chin propped on his left palm, his shirt sleeve not quite covering the wrap on his wrist. When Danny ran out of things to say about the kids, Claude started filling him in on the Flyers. He flashed baby pictures and rolled his eyes about petty locker room drama. Danny lost himself in the familiar rolling flow of French Claude produced. 

When their food arrived, he was snapped out of his pleasant drifting by the waitress. She grinned at them pleasantly and set their plates down. Then to Danny’s surprise, she produced two tall candles from the pockets of her apron. She set them in the holders on the table and winked as she lit them. 

Danny’s eyes locked on the name on her forearm. ‘Jean-Luc’ sprawled in elegant cursive, the candle light making it jump and seem to pulse. He tore his gaze away and looked down at his plate.

The effort it took to not look up at Claude was exhausting Danny. The fact that Claude was unashamedly staring through the candle flickers at Danny, well, that was not Danny’s problem. Except for how every time Danny glanced up, it was getting harder to look away.

He gave up on not blatantly gazing across the table when dessert arrived. Claude had ordered them a single slice of cheesecake. Danny was trying so hard to be miffed about it, it was his absolute favorite and Claude knew it. He was so playing this up, and God help Danny for enjoying it.

Thankfully, Claude didn’t try to get Danny to take a bite off his fork. He did however, continue to blink slowly and smirk each time their eyes met. 

The final straw was when Claude plucked a strawberry off the plate and lifted it to his lips. It had been intended as an edible garnish, and also happened to be Danny’s favorite fruit. Claude bit into it and looked intensely into Danny’s eyes.

Danny felt his face heat and his ears turn red at the same time as a thrum of arousal pulled from his gut downward. If this didn't stop soon, Danny was going to pass out from the blood skipping his brain and going to his face and groin.

When Claude reached for the second strawberry, Danny rolled his eyes and stood quickly. He slapped Claude’s shoulder on his way by and headed for the front of the restaurant. 

Claude stood a little too close as Danny paid for their meal. Danny kept shifting away, which only seemed to give Claude more space to occupy.

He internally groaned when they stepped out onto the sidewalk. The streetlights were on and huge snowflakes were falling from the sky. They paused for a second to look at the snow swirling in the gentle wind. 

Danny looked over just in time to see a smile spread across Claude’s face, directed at the heavens. Then Claude turned the smile to Danny and brightened impossibly more. Danny’s heart skipped a whole five beats.

‘I am so screwed,’ Was the only thought Danny could conjure as a snowflake drifted down to land on Claude’s eyelashes. 

Danny swallowed hard and stared openly, not attempting to avoid it. The air between them was charged and felt like static. He wanted to take a picture of Claude. He wanted to grab his hand and never let go. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted Claude’s neat hand writing on his wrist. He wanted it so much it hurt.

Always a leader, Claude reached out and looped his arm through Danny’s. Well, that's how it's going to be then. Danny can go with it, even if it hurts.

The walk back to the apartment is only a few minutes, but Danny never wants it to end. Claude is warm against his right side, and out of the corner of his eye he can see snowflakes landing in his hair.

In the apartment, the dogs are whimpering in excitement as Danny unlocks the door. Claude enters first, shooing them back and letting them out into the small fenced courtyard off the kitchen. Danny leans his elbows on the kitchen island and watches Claude. 

Claude is peering out the glass door into the dark, waiting for the dogs to finish their business and come back. When he notices Danny staring, he turns a little pink and smiles softly. Danny thinks he knows what’s coming next.

Sure enough, once the dogs are back inside, Claude steps into Danny’s personal space, placing his hands on Danny’s hips. Danny has only turned around to lean his back against the island, folding his arms but not moving a muscle otherwise. He can’t look up to see Claude’s face, afraid he might break if he does.

Claude sighs, his breath gusting across Danny’s face, making him shiver. Danny isn’t ready for it when instead of kissing him, Claude just rests their foreheads together. It catches him so off guard that his eyes pop open and he finds himself staring directly into Claude’s.

“Can I kiss you?” Claude whispers. Danny nods after a beat. “And you won’t run away if I do?” Claude presses. 

“I live here.” Danny murmurs. Claude slides his hands up along Danny’s sides, then shoulders until he has one on Danny’s neck and the other on his cheek. Danny quells the urge to touch Claude. He wants so much to wrap his arms around Claude, bury his face in his neck and never, ever let go. He doesn't deserve that though, and he doesn’t deserve this night, or the way Claude is now kissing him.

Slow and languid like there is nothing in the world to hurry for. He doesn’t push Claude away. Not when Claude starts to kiss him with more ferocity. Not when he lifts Danny up and sets him on the island. Certainly not when he finds his own hands sliding through Claude’s curly hair. Not even when he drags him down from the island a few moments later and urges him towards the bedroom. Definitely not as Claude soothes his hand over each section of skin he exposes as he carefully strips Danny. He can’t even think about pushing Claude away when his back is against the plush mattress and Claude is sucking a mark on his neck, his hips undulating against Danny’s. He knows he shouldn’t, but he wants Claude so much.

When morning comes, Danny wakes up warm and content all the way to his core. His head is pillowed on Claude’s chest, the easy rise and fall lulling Danny almost back to sleep. Danny can’t remember the last time he felt so good. He wants to hold onto it forever.

The feeling is dead when the first wave of guilt rolls through him. Claude doesn't deserve to be put through this. Claude should have someone who will be able to bond back to him. The arm around Danny’s shoulders, draped gently around him, has a thin strip of tape around the wrist. Claude’s true soulmate’s name is under there. Danny can’t stand between them. He can’t do that to another person he loves.

Danny revels guiltily in the closeness until Claude shows signs of life. He stretches his feet out, turns his head towards Danny and smiles reflexively against his forehead. Danny squeezes his eyes shut and catalogs the feeling of Claude’s body against his. He breathes in deeply and commits Claude’s scent to memory.

When Claude blinks his eyes open, Danny sits up and tosses his legs over the edge of the bed.

“You should go home.” 

Ten months later finds Danny in Colorado. It’s cold and breezy and only unlike home if Danny stops to think about it. Danny tries not to stop and think about much of anything.

Honestly, he likes Colorado. It moves at a pace that keeps him on his toes, but he can also go to the grocery store to stock up on 8 cases of gatorade a week and only get a mild side eye from the cashier. Not enough people care about hockey in Colorado to make him worry about being flagged down by fans often.

He has a little condo, and his dogs, and his kids on long weekends, and he aggressively doesn't think about Claude.

It’s been eight months, ten days, since he last heard from Claude. Since he essentially ruined any and all chance of them ever being together. 

‘It’s for the best.’ He tells himself those words over and over and can never seem to find their meaning. His wrist is still barren of any letters, his mind cold and empty of anyone else. It is for the best that Claude is free to find his soulmate. Danny knows there is someone out there who can give Claude more than he ever could.

Claude begged Danny to talk to him. Texted, emailed, and left a multitude of increasingly desperate voicemails on Danny’s phone. Danny read and listened to each one, set on listening and being aware of and feeling every bit of the pain he had caused Claude by allowing him to think there could be a chance.

Danny’s back hurts. His head hurts. Sometimes his thoughts go in circles in a muddled fog so thick he can’t make sense of anything. He has a lingering pain in his knees that never seems to go away. His body doesn't seem to move the way it used to. 

He feels stretched thin and worn out. No amount of time in the hot tub soothes the bone-deep aching in his body. 

Sylvie sees him limping on a particularly tough day and clicks her tongue at him. She’s standing in the little driveway of his rented condo, the kids having brushed by Danny to go inside. She heaves a sigh and grabs Danny by the shoulders and tugs him into a long hug.

The hug feels like it always has. Sylvie is familiar and comforting. Danny loves her unconditionally. They are family and always will be. 

She has her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, but he can’t quite bring himself to wrap both arms around her. He really wants to anyway. He settles a hand on her lower back and hooks his chin over her shoulder. 

“Danny, I’m worried about you.” Sylvie murmurs in his ear. Danny holds on to her a lingering moment longer, then pulls away.

“Don’t be.” He forces a small smile. Sylvie’s hands are still on his shoulders and she is looking at his face intently. His eyes flick to hers and then away, then back, and eventually settling somewhere over her head.

“I think you need to talk to someone.” She says delicately, shaking his shoulders lightly. He thinks so too, but he doesn't tell her that. The waiting taxi honks impatiently.

Christmastime puts Danny a month deep into twice a week counseling sessions. He thinks it is helping, but he usually leaves the sessions wrung out and irritated. It always takes an additional day or two for him to think anything beneficial comes from the previous session.

His counselor is a woman in her late 50’s. Margaret has dyed blond hair with light grey roots and pushes back against Danny’s stubbornness in just the right way.

She seems to understand Danny’s reluctance to pursue a relationship with Claude. However, Danny’s not sure if it’s because she agrees with him or if she is just too professional to tell him what she really thinks. 

“My job is to help you have a better understanding of your own thoughts and feelings.” That’s her patented line when he asks her for her personal opinion about his life. It pisses Danny off. He likes her. She isn’t afraid to back him down when he is off on a tangent.

Margaret urges Danny to see a concussion specialist when he admits to having problems with his thought process and some memory issues. Sometimes he walks around at the mall for an hour and can’t remember why he went in. Once he forgot Cameron at the movie theater.

Instead of heeding her advice, he decides to just retire at the end of the year. He misses his kids, misses Philly, misses his house. He never had trouble driving the route from his house to the dog park without getting lost in Philly. 

He’s had 17 seasons in the game. His body is telling him it’s time with constant aches. His brain occasionally forgets that he still plays, instead making him wander around his condo like he is a guest in his own residence. And he’s so, so tired.

The team notices. Gabe worries like a mother hen, fretting around the locker room and fussing over everyone. He especially hovers around Danny.

“Code silver!” Dutchy yells. Danny laughs along and wonders what he missed. ‘Code Silver’ is the team’s joke for when Danny forgets something. They think he has always been forgetful, they don't know anything different.

Gabe tosses Danny’s dress shoes at him, and slings Danny’s bag over his own shoulder. Danny chuckles softly and sinks onto the bench to put his shoes on. He just almost walked out of the locker room to go...home? In his socks. He isn’t sure where he was going.

“Come on, Briere. The bus leaves in 10.” Gabe is looking at him with concern. His sleeves are rolled up and Danny glances over the uncovered name on his wrist. 

The letters making up ‘Jeffery’ thrum and blare a deep red hue. It’s so dark it is almost purple. Looking at it is like looking into a flashlight. Danny’s eyes unfocus and his head hurts. He snaps his gaze to the shoe in his hand.

“You alright man?” Dutchy asks with a laugh. 

“Daniel, do you know what that thing you are holding is?” Gabe says it like a joke, but Danny can feel his seriousness under the weight of his stare. Everyone is watching.

Danny swallows thickly, then grins. He’s fine. 

He just needs to go Home.

The end of the season can’t come fast enough. Danny aches for the familiarity that the streets of Haddonfield and Philadelphia offer. He wants his kids, he wants his own bed. He wants his beat-to-hell squashy L’shaped couch with the dip in the corner where he always plants his ass.

Stepping off the plane in Philly is anticlimatic. Danny knows no one is there waiting for him, but he still has an underlying expectation for a greeting committee. No one is waiting eagerly to drive him home. No one even spares him a second look. The marker in his pocket that he put there out of habit feels unnecessarily heavy. Maybe Philadelphia has forgotten him.

His wrist twinges as he heaves his duffle off of the conveyer and slings it over his shoulder. His head doesn't hurt today and his thoughts are clear as a bell. At least there’s that.

Danny takes a cab home. His dogs are currently being driven over from Colorado and should arrive in a few days. The house is quiet and empty. Danny drops his bag in the hall and climbs the stairs. When did his house get so many steps?

The bedroom is exactly how he left it, except for the bed being made with fresh coverings courtesy of the housekeeper. Danny kicks off his shoes and sprawls across his bed. He promptly passes out.

When he wakes, the sun has almost gone down and the wind is smacking an overgrown branch against his window. He’s briefly confused until he realises he is at home in Haddonfield. His mouth is dry and his head aches. Turning over causes the rest of his body to complain as well.

When his phone vibrates in his pocket, he fumbles for a moment but eventually fishes it out. He has a multitude of missed texts and a dozen new emails. 

His head hurts too much to go through any of the messages.

The steps are just as irritating on the way down, Danny notes. He gingerly makes his way down to the hall where he dropped his bag. Down in the bottom there is a blister package of the good meds the team doctor in Colorado prescribed him when he hurt his foot.

Danny only takes them when his head hurts in addition to his body. He can handle pain in one or the other but both at once is overwhelming.

Sean Couturier stops by around 8 that night, once Danny was finally able to go through his texts and tell him he could. He doesn’t knock, never has. He finds Danny on the couch under a thick blanket.

“Well you look stunning.” He says sarcastically, no doubt talking about Danny’s disheveled hair and his under eye circles.

Danny smirks and tightens his hands in the blanket. He doesn't react when Sean sits the case of booze on his knees.

“I don't want that.” Danny says dryly, rolling his eyes upwards to look Sean.

“Jeez, okay. Just being nice is all.” Sean says with a huffy laugh. He comes around and flops onto the couch a few feet from Danny. 

The beer winds up on the floor, and Sean is steadily working his way through the six pack. He’s pretty far on the way to completely drunk when he drops the bomb on Danny.

“Look, Briere. I know it’s not my place but I have to say it.” Sean isn’t slurring like he was two minutes ago as he recounted a tale of the Schenns’ nearly getting locked in the arena overnight. Danny hesitates, but reaches for his first beer of the night and pops it open.

“I don't know what went on when Claude went to visit you in Montreal,” Danny slugs half the beer back. 

“But I know that whatever happened, it fucked Claude up. Again, Danny. He was messed up again.” Sean leans forward to set his beer on the coffee table and props his elbows on his knees. Danny feels frozen with guilt.

“You know he stopped covering his soulmark after that?” Sean says, not looking at Danny. 

Danny didn’t know that. He has a sickening urge to make the fifteen minute drive over to Claude’s and find out what it says. He swallows that feeling down.

“What does it say?” He thinks his voice sounds as fragile as he feels. 

“Ask him yourself.” Sean says roughly. He stands and sways a bit, taking his beer and heading for the spare bedroom. Danny sits there wallowing in his emotions for a long while before finally stretching out and going up to bed.

The Flyers offer him a front office position. Danny hems and haws and puts off his decision for a few weeks. He does want to take it, but he doesn't want to see Claude everyday. Or rather, he does want to see Claude everyday. He just doesn't want to work next to him and have that be the end of it.

He’s finally taken Margaret’s advice about seeing a concussion specialist, but he didn’t want to hear the doctor ended up telling him. He was supposed to make a follow up appointment, but he doesn’t.

In the end, it’s Sylvie who talks him into taking the position at the front office. Every Thursday, the day before Danny gets the boys for the weekend, they have a phone call to fill in the events of the week. Sunday dinner when Danny takes the boys back to her is a chaotic event filled with the excitable shrieks of Sylvie’s stepdaughters and the excessive teenage moodiness of the Briere boys. Family dinner at Danny’s house was Sylvie’s new husband’s idea. Danny will always be a little miffed that Sylvie jumped at the idea when it was suggested. Why can’t they just let Danny suffer the solitude of his house?

“Hey, Claude. Do you want to talk?” Danny’s uneasy, but he doesn't want Claude to know.

“Fuck off.” Claude mutters between huffing breaths. He’s 10 minutes into a 20 minute session on the stationary bike. His hair is curling on top and sticking to the back of his neck. Objectively he’s pretty gross right now. Danny searches for some part of him that minds. He doesn't find it.

“Okay, I deserve that. But, want to talk nicer?” Danny shoves his hands into the pockets of his suit pants and takes a step back. He’s not even sure why he decided to do this now. He was up in his office one moment, then standing next to the bike the next moment.

A thunk brings his attention back to Claude. The bike has stopped moving. Claude’s head is resting on the middle of the handles.

Danny realizes suddenly that Claude is wearing a grey hoodie. Danny won't be able to see his soulmark unless he asks directly.

Claude heaves a huge breath and slides off the bike. He looks at Danny for a moment, then turns and walks away. It hurts more than Danny feels entitled to letting it. 

The Flyers want to celebrate his career during a game. Danny is so flattered, he has nothing to say besides a repetitive mantra of ‘Thank you, thank you so much.’

It’s announced to the team in an all-staff meeting. The conference hall has a little elevated stage area, and several tables that seat about ten people each. 

After brief introductions, their guy in charge of media relations asks Danny to stand. Danny feels a little giddy, and a little shy. Even in the face of all these people he knows, he’s a tiny bit uncomfortable. For the most part, excitement overrides the nerves. Everyone claps and hoots encouragingly when the actual announcement is made.

Danny is blushing furiously. Heat spreads up his ears and down his neck. He’s so delighted he can barely contain it. He thinks about being on the ice at Wells Fargo, everyone cheering for him one last time and has to swallow back a swell of fondness. Then his eyes fall on Claude.

Claude, who isn’t smiling. Who is staring coldly at him, his arms crossed over his chest and a stormy look on his face. Danny falters, almost lets the smile slip from his face. ‘Shit,’ he thinks emphatically.

The second time Danny tries to talk to Claude, is when he finds himself unexpectedly alone with him after a meeting. Danny is hanging around in the small conference hall to get the next one going. Claude was half dozing through the one that just ended. He is scrambling to get his papers and pens together and get out of there when Danny tries to pin him down for a much needed discussion.

“Clo, we really need to talk.” Danny says softly, gathering up a few of Claude’s belongings and offering them over. 

“Don’t start, don’t fucking start,” Claude snatches the book and the papers away. “And don't call me that.”

Danny ducks his head sadly. After a beat he sighs out a frustrated breath. Claude pulls at the collar of his button down shirt and lifts his bag over his head, letting the strap land across his chest.

“Seriously, get a dog, join a spin class, whatever old men do, Danny. Learn to play the fucking piano. Just forget about it and leave me alone.” He’s looking intensely at Danny when he says it. Danny’s not looking at him, can’t. He feels the weight of Claude’s words and lets them resonate through him.

He lets Claude stuff his bag with papers and his tablet. Lets him storm out of the office. Stands there idly as the door slams. He feels like he should do something but doesn't know what.

Danny has been keeping up with his now weekly appointments with Margaret. They mostly communicate by email a few times a week. However, once a week they have a videochat that entails a full 1 hour session.

Their meetings usually run over their allotted time, and Danny has gotten used to Margaret scheduling him just before her lunch break so that she doesn't have a client waiting on her. She has told Danny to take as much of her time as he needs, provided he doesn't mind her using part of their session for her lunch. Danny shrugs her off whenever she mentions it. Of course he doesn't mind. He pays her very well to make up for it.

He always has so much to say now. It’s like the floodgates of years of repressed anger, frustration, and pent up sadness has found its way to the surface. Danny didn’t think he was capable of feeling the things he discusses with her. Their meetings have become something that he desperately needs, something he looks forward to. Her guidance has become an invaluable resource to him. Which is why he asks for an urgent session with her the second time Claude refuses to speak to him.

“If you were in Claude’s position, what would you do? How would you feel?” Margaret says benignly. Danny scowls. He really can’t put himself in Claude’s position. He thanks her and says he will work on seeing things from Claude’s point of view. 

When they disconnect the videochat at the end of the session, Danny is no further with his problem than he was before it. His anger has dissipated though. She really does know how to talk to him, and it makes him feel better to talk. If someone had told him a year ago that he would eventually enjoy therapy, he would have encouraged that person to get some for themself.

“Cam, what are you doing.” It’s late, and Danny just wanted a snack, but instead he finds his youngest child standing in the kitchen. Cam has the chocolate syrup bottle poised above his mouth. Danny shakes his head and crosses the room to take the container away from him. The lid clicks shut sharply when Danny puts his thumb on it.

Cameron is looking at him sheepishly. His eyes are tired but warm with affection. At almost 15 he still has an innocence about him that Danny wants to cherish forever.

“Why are you up?” Danny asks, getting the bread out of the drawer. He drops two pieces into the toaster.

“Thinking too much to sleep.” Cameron says easily. 

“Oh, yeah? What’s on your mind?” Danny slides into a chair at the table and props his chin on his hand, waiting Cameron out when he is silent.

Now that he has his boys back, he has been trying to catch up on the things he’s missed. He’s missed so much.

Cameron grabs the toast out of the toaster when it pops. He winces at the heat. Danny shakes his head again and watches in amusement as Cam drops the toast on the counter.

They are running low on peanut butter, but Cam scrapes the bottom of the jar with a butter knife anyway. Danny has missed his kids so much the last two years. Every little thing they do makes him want to stop and take note. Cam is such a determined kid, gives everything all that he’s got. Carson wears his heart on his sleeve, he loves easily and relentlessly. Then there’s Caelan. Danny wonders a little bit what happened there. Caelan was such a smart kid, if a little bit of a brat. Now he is snarky and sarcastic, and more bitter than pleases Danny. He should talk to Caelan. See what’s going on. Maybe it’s just his age, maybe it’s something more.

But first, Cameron is here, in front of him and needs his attention. Cam is eating Danny’s toast, unconcerned that he wasn’t invited to. Danny doesn’t care anyway. Eventually Cameron will cave and start talking.

But he doesn’t. Danny watches as Cameron finishes and takes his plate to the sink. 

“Cam. You don't have to tell me what’s up, but I would like it a lot if you did.”

Cameron visibly stiffens where he is standing by the sink. He turns slowly and doesn't look at Danny, his eyes trained on the floor.

“My...my soulmark came in. I have a soulmark.” Cam looks up slowly, needing to see his father’s reaction.

“Cam…!” Danny breaths, relaxing and letting a smile take over his face. His eyes flick to Cam’s wrist. 

Cameron’s fingers circle his forearm through his sweatshirt. His face is carefully blank, something Danny isn’t sure what to make of.

“What’s wrong, Cam? I’m so happy for you!” Danny stands up and crosses the kitchen to stand in front of Cameron. In an instant, Cam grabs ahold of Danny, tucking his head under his chin and holding on tightly.

“It’s okay, It’s okay.” Danny says softly. Suddenly he understands. Cameron wasn’t born with a soulmark, which isn’t completely unusual. Sometimes soulmarks wouldn’t appear until a person was well into their teens. However it was rare for someone to get one after they were 20. Both Danny’s other children were born with names on their forearms. Cam wasn’t. Cam thought he would be like his father. ‘Alone.’ Danny’s mind provided.

Cameron pulls away slowly and dabs at his eyes with his sleeve. 

“Do you want to see?” He asks hesitantly.

“Of course, cher. If you want to show me.” Cameron must want to show him, because he is tugging his sleeve up suddenly. He displays his wrist for Danny, smiling weakly.

The pale grey lettering on his wrist forms ‘Aubrey Ouelette.’ Danny lets out a breath, then beams at his son. 

There’s a person out there for each of his kids. They won't have to be on their own. Something loosens in his chest and he tugs Cameron in to hug him again. 

“Congratulations, Mon cher.”

The Flyers go on a road trip in early November. The kids are busy in school and with their friends. Danny is starting to feel like he hasn’t seen anyone outside of the Flyers front office staff in ages. He needs to get out of this house.

“Come on Zora, let’s go for a walkie!” He feigns excitement and snaps the clip to her leash. She picks her head up off the sofa and gives him a tired look. If she could roll her eyes, he thinks she would. Her movements are stiff as she slithers off the couch and lays back down on the carpet. 

Danny snorts and goes over to her, clicking the leash on her collar. Begrudgingly, she gets up and follows him.

They can’t be more than a half a mile from the house when she starts to limp. She is giving him pleading looks while she shivers and favors her left front leg.

Guilt creeps up Danny’s spine and he winds up carrying her home. He murmurs soft reassurances to her and promises her a pain med when they get home. 

She sleeps the rest of the afternoon, leaving Danny with absolutely nothing to do. He lounges on the couch for a while, then goes through a workout. When he’s done, he gets in the shower and tries to examine the empty feeling in his gut.

He was so sure that he would feel whole when he came back to Philly. He doesn't. 

The night of Danny’s retirement ceremony sneaks up on him a little. One minute he is saying yes and no to various party plans, the next he is walking down a carpet on the ice. The crowd is yelling and chanting his name. It feels weird.

The last time he stepped on this ice it was as the enemy. He never felt that way, though. Home is where the crowd likes your cheap shots and dirty elbows. Home is where people know who you are and love you anyway.

They play a video montage, and Danny tries to watch. Mostly he can’t. He turns in circles, taking in the audience and fighting the urge to tear up. His eyes are not exactly dry when he drops the puck, his kids at his sides.

Claude starts to shake his hand, but then he tugs Danny in. Danny stumbles and laughs as Claude snickers in his ear.

“Good to see you, old fart.” Claude is grinning, and looks genuinely happy as he hands the puck over.

The rest of the night Danny stands at the front of the suite on the third floor and looks out over the game. Somewhere around the middle of the second period he loses track of Cameron and Carson. They know their way around. He’s sure they are fine. 

His head is pounding and his thoughts are swirling by the end of the game. He distantly feels disappointment at the loss.

Danny doesn’t find himself in the same room as Claude for more than a second for the next few weeks. There is always at least a handful of Flyers or coaching staff milling about. On one particularly alarming occasion, Claude shows up at Danny’s house with two of Danny’s kids piling out of the car. Claude takes off before Danny has his second shoe on so he can come outside to speak to him.

Grilling the kids gets him nowhere, Cam pleads the 5th and fires up his video game. Carson gives Danny a long, exhausted look. When Danny presses harder for information, Carson rolls his eyes and disappears upstairs. Danny doesn't know what to make of Claude spending time with his kids and then dropping them off unannounced. 

Danny enrolls in an online business management course in the spring. Mostly it’s just a way to pass the time, but Danny kind of likes it. He has always been a little bit of a nerd for math. 

The Flyers get eliminated from the playoffs, to no one’s surprise. Danny had begun to lose faith somewhere around the beginning of April anyhow.

It’s Carson who wakes him up, he thinks. There is yelling coming from the hall, and Danny’s thoughts are thick and foggy. His head is pounding, and he doesn't know what to do to make it stop. 

He presses his palms to his temples and massages his scalp with his fingers. His head throbs again. He needs to take some medicine. 

When he stands up, he has a terrifying moment where his stomach lurches and his vision swims. He stumbles and grabs the dresser for support. Carefully, he sinks down to the mattress on his belly. 

Medication is the whole way downstairs, Danny isn’t sure he can make it there without falling. Carson bangs on his door, yelling about something Cam is doing. Danny groans and hides his face in his pillow.

The door to his bedroom finally flings open and Danny turns to stare blearily towards it. Caelan rushes in, pushing his shorter brother out of the way with a hand on his forehead. 

“Cam is trying to get himself killed and Claude can’t get him to stop! You have to come make him leave me alone or I’m literally going to kill him!” Caelan keeps going, but Danny can’t listen anymore. 

He sits up carefully and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees and hide his face in his hands. Caelan pauses. 

“Dad? You alright?” He asks. Danny can hear Cam’s high pitched screaming from down the hall, along with thundering footsteps coming closer. The dogs join in and then Carson is yelling again too.

Oh god, he needs it to stop. It’s too loud, too bright, too _much._

The next thing Danny knows, he’s waking up to the sound of something beeping slowly. When he gets the nerve up, he cracks his left eye open. The room is just shy of pitch black, and he slowly realizes he’s in the hospital. 

It’s totally quiet, aside from the beeping of the machine next to him. Shit, he feels good. They must have given him something. Whatever it is, he wants to take some of it home. Not that they would let him. He giggles a little bit and brings his hand up to rub his nose.

“Danny?” A voice to his right calls softly. “Can I turn the light on?”

Claude. Claude is here. ‘Oh, good. This is a dream.’ Danny thinks to himself. He has had lots of pleasant dreams about Claude. But, so far, never had one taken place in a hospital.

A light nearby comes on, seeming to be coming from a different room and spilling in through a door. Danny reaches for the light and winces when an IV on the back of his hand tugs unpleasantly. 

The shock of pain makes him realize that maybe this isn’t a dream. He blinks, trying to get his eyes to adjust. The shape of another person moving around the room is just barely visible. 

“Feeling okay?” Claude, Danny’s brain provides. Danny nods, then giggles when he remembers Claude can’t really see him.

“Feeling pretty damn good, apparently.” Claude is mostly talking to himself, but he reaches out and touches Danny’s arm lightly. He’s just running the tips of his fingers over the back of Danny’s wrist. He feels very real and not at all like a dream.

“You scared the shit out of me and the kids, Danny.” Claude murmurs. He stops stroking Danny’s arm suddenly, recoiling like he just realized what he was doing. Danny coughs and clears his throat.

“Turn the lights on, please.” Even to himself, his voice sounds dry and scratchy. 

Claude’s chair scrapes on the floor as he pushes it back, and light floods the room. Danny squints and tries to get a good look at Claude. He’s got a backwards snapback, dark circles under his eyes, awful salmon shorts, and a navy tank top. Danny’s eyes slowly travel down the length of Claude’s arm until they land on his wrist. 

He can just barely make out the dark splotch there, but can’t even begin to read it. Claude knows exactly what Danny is doing. He heaves a big sigh and steps closer. The machine bleeps oddly, then resumes a steady pace, albeit quicker than before.

“Do I have your heart racing, eh, Briere?” Claude smirks. He turns his wrist over and exposes the fine lettering for Danny to see.

_Danny_

The word is written small, delicate. There is no last name. It is dark purple, with sickly yellow bruising around the edges. It is thrumming with life, appearing to pulse and throb. It looks fairly painful. The lettering appears normal, all except for the smudge. The letters look like someone took their thumb and smeared them when the ink was still wet.

“That isn’t my handwriting.” Danny murmurs, sadly. Claude nods and scratches the smeared ‘y’ gently.

“It’s mine.” He says softly. He stares at the letters and doesn't try to look at Danny.

“Shit,” Danny murmurs, with feeling. He reaches out and threads his fingers through Claude’s. “I’m sorry.”

Claude shrugs. He squeezes Danny’s hand and gives him an honest smile. 

“It’s always been like that. The day I met you, the color came in and it looked smeared like that. I’ve had it looked at, it’s not like, cancer, or a bad bond or anything. They said if my bondmate had totally rejected me it would have turned black. It’s my handwriting, because I chose you.” 

Danny closes his eyes. He’s too high for this conversation. Not so high that he won’t remember, just high enough to be loose lipped.

“I’ll always love you, Clo. I’m sorry I put you through this.” Danny rubs Claude’s hand with his thumb.

“I won’t tell you it’s okay until you promise to get over yourself. I’ll always pick you, though. I will be ready when you are.” Claude is grinning, already knowing he’s won. Danny smiles back.

“I’m ready.”

**Author's Note:**

> You should see how much unfinished fic i have from 2016-2018 its frankly an ASTOUNDING amount


End file.
